


Under Protection

by kampix



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), this is just really soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kampix/pseuds/kampix
Summary: Even demons need guardian angels sometimes.Or Aziraphale watches over Crowley and speaks to him in old angelic tongue while he sleeps.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97





	Under Protection

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so the threat of tortellini shared a very soft idea in the Ace Omens server and I couldn't resist writing something for it because I am weak for that kind of thing.

“Crowley, dear, would you like— Oh...”

Aziraphale stops when he notices the sleeping figure on the couch hidden in a nook of his shop’s backroom. Coiled upon the afghan, head resting on top of a pillow, is a rather large black snake. One that Aziraphale knows particularly well. The angel approaches quietly. He reaches out through the ether, wisps of his true form brushing tentatively against Crowley’s edges, gently caressing so as not to startle the demon. He comes to a stop in front of the sofa, reaching out a hand to stroke the demon’s scales. The tip of Crowley’s tail barely twitches at the touch, his body completely lax.

“I did offer you my bed, you silly serpent,” Aziraphale admonishes quietly, remembering the dark circles under Crowley’s eyes and his insistence that he had no intention of sleeping anyway, and that “really angel, we can still go out to eat, I’m not that tired.”

The angel snaps his fingers and, somewhere else in the city, a crestfallen young couple find themselves delighted to learn that there is still one table free that night after all.

“Move over a little, if you wouldn’t mind,” Aziraphale says, more out of habit than anything, gathering loose coils in his arms. He keeps a hand free to raise Crowley’s head from the pillow it was lying on, careful not to move him around too much, before slipping in between snake and sofa. He gently lowers his armful then, coils draping themselves over him sluggishly, pressing against his warmth. Once they’ve settled, he rests Crowley’s head comfortably in his lap.

They stay like this for awhile; one of Aziraphale’s hands caressing the top of Crowley’s head, the other stroking the underside of his neck. The angel loses himself in the familiar feeling of Crowley’s scales and the comfortable weight of him on his legs. Time stretches out, flowing like honey, the sun slowly setting behind the shop’s dusty windows.

There’s a shift in the air and Aziraphale snaps back to the present when he feels soft strands between his fingers rather than the expected sensation of cool scales. He looks down to see Crowley, back in human form and still fast asleep, attempting to bury his head in the soft fabric of his coat. The demon frowns suddenly, tensing up. He reaches around Aziraphale’s waist to hold him tightly, clutching at his clothes in balled up fists, tangling their legs together.

“No need to fret darling. I’m not going anywhere, I promise you,” the angel whispers, carding his fingers through red locks of hair. 

He doesn’t know what Crowley might be dreaming of, but whatever it is that’s making him frown like this, he wants it gone. Banished somewhere it won’t find his demon again. Without thinking, he addresses the hypothetical entity in old angelic tongue, warning it. He stops the second he realizes what he’s done. He’s never once allowed himself to use this language in the demon’s presence, afraid it might drag painful memories back to the surface. 

But Crowley hasn’t moved a muscle. If anything, he looks calmer than before. Reassured, and somewhat curious, Aziraphale opens his mouth again. Carefully, he weaves new words around Crowley. Love, Devotion, Peace… Holy ideas, told in the language of angels, formulated and applied using human notions. They entwine around the demon, a latticework of words and concepts, the main thread linking all others a strand of Aziraphale’s own power; his personal take on Divine Protection. 

Aziraphale keeps talking, hands gently petting Crowley’s hair. Slowly, Crowley’s body relaxes, tension ebbing out of him, until he takes in a shuddery breath and settles, his expression peaceful once more.

Aziraphale stops then, smiling softly. The words linger for a few moments, before dissolving in the air. Their power remains, covering the demon like a blanket. Aziraphale lowers his head, pressing his lips against Crowley’s forehead.

“Sleep well my dear. I will be right beside you, standing guard until you wake.”


End file.
